


the transference of hatred

by brightclam



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, imoortan joe being shitty as usual, mentions of miscarriages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 10:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12792348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightclam/pseuds/brightclam
Summary: Angharad hates being reminded she's pregnant. The baby kicks anyways.





	the transference of hatred

**Author's Note:**

> a drabble written because when we watched the movie my friends wondered why exactly angharad was making so much noise in the rig if she wasn't going into labor. I alway just assumed this was why

\-----

The first time the baby kicks, Angharad screams. It’s a terrible noise, shrill and filled with echoes. It rings through the birdcage dome and the claustrophobic bedroom, bringing the other women rushing to her side. Their voices seem far away, barely audible, and certainly not understandable. Miss Giddy pushes through their concerned huddle and presses a gentle hand to curve of Angharad’s belly.

 

“What is it, darling? Does it hurt?”

 

It’s only the worry tainted love she sees on her sister’s faces that gives her voice back.

 

“No, no...it’s just...moving.”

 

She has to push down a wave of bile as she says it. Feeling it in her like this is completely different than before; before she could pretend it was dead. She had prayed for it to be stillborn, even if that would be her second strike. She’d rather be dragged through the halls and thrown from the summit than spend another night in this place, but no matter how she angers him, he just won’t kill her. That’s what she gets for being his favorite.

 

She’s thankful actually, that he likes her best; the only thing worse than going herself is watching one of her sisters go instead. He’ll start on Cheedo soon, and she thinks that is what will break her. 

 

She looks at the gleaming metal of the vault door, a new desperation growing in her, a third child she never wanted to carry.

 

“We have to get out of here. Enough thinking and speech writing, we make our case to Furiosa tomorrow.”

 

\-------

 

The second (and last) time the baby kicks is when she’s hiding in the hold, a man holding a gun next to her cheek. Furiosa’s voice rings through the canyon, loud and sure, but not loud enough to cover Angharad's cries. She tries to swallow them down but can’t force them past the disgust coiled in her throat. The reminder of what Joe had done to them, when she’s trying so hard to get away from him, is too much for her to handle.

 

All is silent outside the rig, a deathly silence of predators listening for signs of prey. Angharad claps her hands over her mouth and looks into the wastelander’s nervous eyes. They share a moment of breathless expectation, knowing that the next noise will shatter the silence and bring the bikers down on them.

 

Angharad coughs, gurgles. The sound echoes louder than the gunfire that erupts a second later. Furiosa roars “fool!” unnecessarily; the wastelander is already up and moving. He throws himself towards the driver's seat, stray foot grazing Angharad as he passes. It’s not painful, she can barely even feel it. But, combined with the unwanted child writhing inside her, it’s enough to bring back a flood of memories.

 

—the first child goes still inside her swollen stomach and he—  
Snarls, screams—strike one  
Pulls her hair and—  
Kicks, kicks, kicks—until she bleeds it’s remnants out—

 

There’s a hand on her thigh, pushing with gentle insistence, too soft to be his. She moves mindlessly, letting her sisters out of the hold. She can’t think through the hurt in her head, the years spent with him spinning through her skull. Her sisters pull her onto the seat and throw protective arms around her, hunching low as bullets pepper the rig. Furiosa is back, face war-bright and eyes wild, shooting the bikers down as they soar over the rig. Max echoes her, leaning out of the window and shooting as he drives.

 

The guns clicks and Furiosa crouches, throws the gun into Angharad’s lap. That too feels like him, all death and cold metal.

 

Furiosa screams: “Reload the clip!”

 

And Angharad wishes she could, wishes she could be wolf-sure like Furiosa and never hesitate. She wishes she could be anything but the rabbit, waiting for its heart to explode from fear.

 

She breathes out the aching truth:

 

“I can’t.”

 

Toast rips the gun from her hands and Angharad loves her more for it. She’s the Furiosa of their group, all necessity and grit. She throws Angharad an angry look, worry hidden under a thin layer of rage.  
Angharad gets like this sometimes, all mist in the inside and empty on the outside. Her sisters can’t snap her out of it, and it breaks their hearts.

 

Angharad closes her eyes and tries to breathe.

 

\------

 

Angharad falls and finally, she feels nothing.

 

\------


End file.
